The Dying Tree - Jared Luther

Naked. Uncovered.

brandished and bare

hollow to look at,

barren to stare.


No flowers, no leaves,

no birds or bees.

No shade, no fruit,

this visage of loot.


No flirting of lovers,

no aged who weep,

no children at play,

no peasants who sleep.


Below my shade,

Life once thrived

Brimming with joys,

Madness and strifes.


My life, my mirth,

Who took it all?

Before my death,

Why my fall?


My roots don’t give up.

My arms still feel.

There is reason to live,

unto why this is real.


In faith,

I bide my time.

With patience,

I wait for the sign.


Till I see…

Till I feel…

Till I sow…

I will be steel


Let them call me an unlucky omen,

Let them curse for me to die.

Let them decide when to uproot,

Let them decide in whose pyre I lie.


Greater than hope

Bigger than dreams

Are ways of nature.

Its work unseen.


Unknown to man

and creatures around

Plans unfold.

Paths form.


In chaos of daylight

In quietness of nights

The womb had known

The seeds have been sown


Warm in coats of patience

Secure in shells of faith

The harbingers of tomorrow

Inside. In wild. In wait.


In the deep hearth of earth,

Under the trampled bed of leaves,

Nestled in the caring bosom

Dreams of tomorrow sleep.


Will soon come a morning

Bathing rays of light

Uncurling frail souls

Strengthening their might


Tiny roots will find their home

Tender leaves will seek light

In flowers will bloom their hopes

In fruits, their promise of life.


There is no death in dying

There is so much life in life.


So let this last leaf fall

Let the last bloom dry.

In my dying,

I am more than alive.


-- 

ISHRATH HUMAIRAH

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